Cartoons and Fun Memories
Carried German Machine Gun All the Way Home in His Roll
When it came to collecting, camouflaging and transporting the goods---Deutschland to Brest to Home---we had one man in the 329th who could go against the entire A.E. F. and win hands down, "under wraps."
Big Smith of Battery C is the man. And if any Buddy in the A.E.F. or the world, wants to try to equal his achievement, let him get busy tout suite or forever hold his peace. Single-handed and entirely on his own, the Big Indian from "C" Battery carried a complete (and entirely serviceable) German machine gun all the way home in his roll. Can you beat it? We ask you---fat, lean or heavyweight---weren't those blankety-blank packs heavy enough for the most of us without a young arsenal inside?
Some of the boys who knew Smitty noticed the length of his roll one day, during the "travel-log" over France, and inquired facetiously, "Whatcha got there, Smitty? A hunk of the old Roman viaduct, or just the village of Messac?"
"Neither," grunted the king of souvenir scroungers, "just a little old Boche machine gun." And we verified that fact. We saw the "typewriter" taken down in France, and know for a fact that he startled his home town natives by setting the gun up at the family reunion. Proved it would still operate, too.
How did he get the gun by the inspection hounds? Hanged if we know---unless he swallowed it passing through the double-o shed.
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Stg. Hensler (to Mess Sgt. DiLaura, who was suffering from seasickness on the Maungunui):
"What's the matter, Pete? Weak stomach?"
Mess Stg. DiLaura (indignantly): "What makes you think I got a weak stomach? Ain't I throwin' it as far as anybody?"
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Shorty Janecek grew tired of the routine at Pont-a-Mousson and decided to explore the town across the river. The M. P. stopped him at the bridge. He went away, did a little salvaging and returned in a short time wearing an old French cap and coat. "Here, you can't go across that bridge." "No compree, no compree," from Janecek. "Get across there, you no compree frog," said the guard and Shorty went merrily on his way.
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"Bill" Surden went on sick call the morning of Nov 7th. "You have a sudden rapid rise in temperature, with symptoms of diarrhea," said the Medical Captain after looking him over, "caused by a shock of some kind." He did not know that Bill had been out on the ammunition detail the night before, when the Germans began throwing them over.
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Lt. Dickie: "Of course you can readily understand what it means to drop fire bombs on the enemy's vast stores at night."
Rosenberg: "Sure! Fire sales the next morning."
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When Garvalia was a Corporal drilling the "squad of all nations," he lost every man because in maneuvering around a ditch he gave them "Back Step" and they all fell into a deep ditch.
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Positives--Negatives
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Corp. Tricker: "Goodness gracious, Sergrant. Sounds like old Frtiz coming over in the mud---squish squash, squish, squash."
Stg. Atkins: "That's all right, Lillian; that's only those Americans over in Calabresi section a'chewing their gum rations which Big Hearted Charlie just sent up."
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"I should like a porthouse steak with mushrooms, French fried potatoes, a nice combination salad, some delicately browned toast with plenty of butter, and a big cup of coffee," said Stg. Verry in a cafe in Pont-a-Mousson.
"Excuse me," interrupted the waitress, "are you trying to give an order or just reminiscing about old times?"
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Back in Custer, Captain Baxter was leading a detail on a scouting party to locate the enemy. At the start he specifically cautioned everyone to do just exactly as he did. Later in passing through a woods the Captain, in attempting to step over the root of a tree, stumbled and fell, badly skinning his nose. Garvalia was heard to call out innocently: "Captain, will we do that, too?" It was up to the Captain to halt the detail so everyone could laugh heartily.
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Back in Custer, a pretty girl was eagerly watching the drill one afternoon, when a rifle volley crashed out. With a surprised little scream, she shrank back into the arms of Stg. "Bill" Hewitt, who was standing behind her. "Oh!" she cried, blushing, "I was frightened by the rifles. I beg your pardon."
"No need," he replied quickly. "Let's go over and watch the artillery."
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One of the funny sights of that ammunition detail on the night of Nov 8th was Garvalia crawling for shelter from bursting German shells underneath an ammunition wagon loaded to the brim with H. E. shells and fuses. We wonder what would have happened to Frank if a shell hit the wagon.
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Private Sliger had the scare of his young life at the echelon. He had mislaid his gas mask one evening so when the gas signal was given he ducked his head under the blankets and pleaded with his comrades to save his life. He could smell the gases penetrating his blankets! How was he to know that it was his imagination working overtime and that the gas attack failed to develop?
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Soon after arriving at Cöetquidan, Sgts. Rugila and Kauschy decided to take a little exploring trip in towns adjacent to camp. Evidently they found good cognac for they made a night of it. Rugila came into quarters next morning with his hair standing on end and he told the reason. They had wandered further from camp than they realized and when daylight showed them the way, they found it necessary to go through Plelan, the target area. That would have been good practice Andy, dodging G. I. cans among the shell holes of Plelan.
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When asked what the national air of the United States was, a little French girl promptly answered: "Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here."
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If Battery B can travel 35 kilometers on a bacon sandwich, how far can they travel on a hog?
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The Supply sergeant had a nut to crack when John Koski joined the battery. The government didn't make breeches to fit such big men and John had to have breeches. Alarie kept his weather eye open and finally discovered that Major Haviland was about Koski's size. That's how John happened to get the major's tailored-to-order breeches.
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Mc Bride offers a reward for anyone furnishing information as to who put the hardware and bricks in his pack that time over in Messac.
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Private Goulides on sick report:
Captain of Medical Corps: "Well, what's the trouble?"
Goulides: "Sir, I've been slinging hash all my life and have weak arches."
Captain (scratching his head): "H-m-m! Guess I'll have to transfer you to the aviation corps where you won't have to walk."
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"Any compaints, Corporal?" asked the Colonel, making one morning a personal inspection.
"Yes, sir. Taste that, sir," said the Corporal.
"Why," the Colonel daid, "that's the best soup I ever tasted."
"Yes, sir," said the Corporal, "And the cook wants to call it coffee."
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During the thickest of the shelling, a detail of Battery C men were hauling ammunitions from the road up to the gun positions. A particularly close-up burst scattered our men for cover like frightened quail. Studer was heard to yell to Corporal Carrie, in a quavering voice: "If you're a leader of men, for heaven's sake lead us out of this."
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Soldier (with cooties): "Now I know why Napoleon's pose was always with one hand inside his blouse."
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Early one morning, at the front, Lieut. Gemuend's attention was called to the fact that he wore only one spur. "Good night," he said, as he turned toward a clump of bushes, "I must have left it sticking in the horse." This has official corroboration.
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One of our men, unskilled in the native tongue of the cafes, being tired of making signs and drawing pictures, discovered a new way of ordering eggs (oeufs). He says take a small dog, of the lap variety, with you when in search of the soft-boiled. Woog-ouf-ouf!
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The Ministers’ Picnic
Battery A’s genial skipper—Captain Moore—doubtless left a longer trail of jokes, original and aboriginal, pranks, harmless and devilish, cuss words, novel and otherwise, behind him than any man that ever taught a rookie how to equitate. He invariably got away with them, too.
But one day at Fort Sheridan he pulled one that nearly broke up the party. He was equitation instructor there and had his charges—and chargers—out at the edge of the field giving them hallelujah. “What’s a matter there? Sit down in them saddles! Are you a lot of blankety-blank-blank blankeses?” he howled. And then observed that the woods were full of a ministers’ picnic. “Countermarch!” he yowled. “Trot! E-To! Gallop! YO-O! This is NO place for a leather vocabulary!”
One of the Captain’s pupils at Sheridan was a short, fat individual who found equitation a sad proposition indeed. His arms and legs would flop up and down as he bounced unmercifully in the saddle. One day Capt. Moore noted him careening thus and yelled, “Sit down in that saddle there! What’s the matter with you. You ain’t no angel!”
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